To escape the cold, miserable rain, I'm taking a little vacation to a tropical island where I will enjoy, from the looks of the weather report for the coming week, the warm miserable rain. There will be drinking. Lots of drinking.
I'm pressing my luck with the tail-end of hurricane season, but one of the people we're going with has this habit of just missing disasters, so I think we'll be ok. She lost her apartment because she lived right across the street from the World Trade Center; She postponed a trip to Sri-Lanka and therefore just missed the Tsunami -- that sort of thing. At the very least, it should make for an interesting blog entry, assuming I make it back.
The other person we're going with said he would be meeting us at the airport with a case of rum, a rental car and assless leather pants. I'm not sure what to make of that. Although he did say that David Lee Roth rented the last pink caddy on the island, so maybe there's a story behind the assless pants that I don't want to know.
Come to think of it, pretty much any story involving assless pants is one that I don't want to know.
Have fun. Drink responsibly. Avoid the assless pants. And, if you can, David Lee Roth.
Goddammit, I wish he'd stop following me.